


Aquaphilia

by LittleSpoon



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Aquaphilia, Fluff, M/M, Secret Relationship, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSpoon/pseuds/LittleSpoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean got far too drunk at his own party, so he decides to try a new way to cure his hangover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aquaphilia

**Author's Note:**

> Yea ok, this is entirely self-serving because I love Jean and Marco and I love water. A lot.   
> This is also the first time I've ever written anything smutty so I hope it's okay!
> 
> Thanks to lamatikah for proof-reading this for me! ^_^ <3

"Marco, run me a bath," Jean whined.

"I'm not going to do that, Jean," came the nonchalant response from the next room.

Jean groaned dramatically to express his disapproval, and rolled onto his side, half-burying his face into the pillow. "Why not?" he moaned, his voice muffled in the soft fabric.

Marco leaned through the doorway. "Because, I'm afraid you might _drown_ yourself," he said, as if it was obvious. Jean caught his eye and pouted, huffed, and buried his face further into the pillow in protest.

Marco rolled his eyes and disappeared back into the kitchen. There was a sound of teaspoons clinking as drinks were stirred, and a few moments later Jean felt the sofa cushions sink as Marco sat heavily in front of him, holding a cup of coffee out for him. The scent was strong and inviting; enough to get him to show his face again.

He was feeling far too groggy to smile just yet, but he pushed himself up carefully, the blanket that had been thrown over him during the night falling off of his shoulders. He leant his head against Marco's shoulder for a moment, a silent gesture of appreciation, and with slightly shaking hands took the cup of coffee, and sipped it gingerly.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and Marco took the opportunity to gaze at his best friend, as he was much too hungover to notice. He looked paler than usual, and his eyes were puffy. His shirt collar was sat correctly on one side and sticking upright on the other, mirroring his horrendous case of bed hair; _"I suppose that's what you get when you pass out on the sofa,"_ he thought, and smiled contentedly to himself.

Gentle rays of morning sun filtered in through the living room window and danced lazily across his face, and despite the state he was in, Marco couldn't help but find it an endearing sight. His trail of thought was lost, however, when Jean suddenly broke the silence.

"How the fuck did I end up sleeping on my _own_ sofa? At my _own party?"_

Marco let out a soft laugh - he would have laughed louder at his friend's expense, but figured Jean wouldn't appreciate any sudden increases in volume. "You drank far too many shots of Jaeger and passed out here," he explained.

"Fucking Jaegermeister," Jean scowled, staring at a pyramid of empty beer cans that some creative soul had left on the coffee table. "Who had the pleasure of sleeping in my bed, then?"

"Connie. And also Sasha. I think Christa might have been in there at some point, but Ymir took her home, seeing as she was almost as far gone as you," the taller boy bit his lip as he said it, trying not to laugh again as Jean screwed his face up in annoyance.

"Trust _those_ two," he said, sounding irritated, but not the least bit surprised. He quickly decided he did not want to think about what the two of them had gotten up to in his bed, where he ought to have been last night. He and Marco, that is. Not that they would have let it happen with so many people in the house.

He sighed heavily, placing his coffee down on the table and holding his face in his hands, his head pounding. "Is everyone gone, at least?" 

"Yeah," Marco said, "and a few of them helped clean up a bit before they went. There's still a lot of mess, though."

"That can wait 'til later," Jean waved one hand dismissively. The last thing he wanted to think about right now was cleaning. He turned slowly towards Marco, neck aching, and in the most pathetic little voice said, "I really need to shower."

"Poor thing," He replied gently, and with sincerity. He reached out and held Jean's face in his hands, drew him closer, and planted a loving kiss on his mouth. This elicited a soft little sound from Jean - expressing his approval. He loved affection, although he would never admit to it in front of their other friends. "Come on, then," Marco pulled back, and got to his feet, offering Jean a hand to help him up, "let's get you sorted out."

Even with the hand up, Jean staggered immediately as he attempted to walk. Marco put his arm around him, supporting him as they ambled along to the bathroom. "Pisshead," he grinned, "are you sure you're just hungover? You're not still drunk, are you?"

Jean made some vague movement that Marco supposed was an attempt at shrugging. The boy's eyes were half closed as if he barely had the energy to stay awake. Marco just shook his head and smiled; it was hard not to be amused by just how terrible Jean could be the morning after a party. 

"My head hurts," he sighed, frowning, and Marco slowly, carefully let go of him where they now stood in the bathroom - slightly concerned he might lose his balance and topple over the moment he let go of him.

"You'll feel better once you've showered," he reassured him as he reached into the shower, turning it on and holding his hand under the water, waiting for the temperature to adjust. "I'll get you some painkillers too, though, for your head," he added, and stepped back from the shower. "Get in," he said matter-of-factly, and left the room to go and raid the medicine cabinet.

He returned a couple of minutes later to find Jean's clothes strewn messily across the bathroom floor and the hungover boy stood under the shower, head tilted up and eyes closed, still... wearing... his shirt?

Marco stood there for a moment, just blinking at him. Jean's eyes fluttered open and he squinted at Marco through the running water. "What?" he said, as if he had not done anything unusual.

"Jean, are you for real?" Marco spluttered, and stepped towards him, "you still have your shirt on, you know."

Jean looked down at himself, then back up at Marco. "Oh, yeah. I must have... _forgotten_ to take it off."

Marco raised one eyebrow at him. 

Jean looked away from him and sighed theatrically, "I guess you'll just have to come in here and help me take it off. I'm hanging way too bad to undo all these buttons myself," he said in a surprisingly playful tone, still just looking at the wall.

Marco chuckled, amazed at how much his boyfriend's mood had lifted already. "Seriously, Jean? This is the best you could come up with?"

Jean looked back at him and his eyes flashed golden, a devious smile broke out on his lips. "Don't act like you don't want to get in here with me," he teased.

"Fine!" Marco threw his hands up in defeat, and sighed loudly - pretending as if this was some kind of hardship - but he stripped off his own clothes quickly enough, before popping two pills out of the box of painkillers he had brought back with him. Jean tipped his head back and opened his mouth obediently, and Marco dropped them in as he stepped into the shower.

"Idiot," he muttered as he unbuttoned Jean's sodden shirt.

"What?!" Jean cried - he looked offended. "I had to get you in here with me somehow."

"You could have just asked," Marco retorted, smirking slightly as he peeled the shirt off, throwing it into the sink across the room and finally pulling the shower doors closed behind him.

"Less fun," Jean mumbled, pouting.

Marco couldn't help but grin, and he pressed his forehead to Jean's, pushing him a little. "Hey," he wrapped his arms around his waist, "quit sulking, you got me."

"Good." Jean looked up, gazing intently into Marco's dark eyes. "Do you know how hard it was not to just throw myself at you in front of everyone last night?"

"I have a vague idea," Marco chewed his lower lip, and straightened up. "You know, it was _your_ idea to keep this a secret, though."

"I know. I'm sorry." Jean pulled Marco closer, so they were pressed together, skin to skin. "It's just... _nice_. Being with you, and with nobody ever asking questions."

"I understand." Marco spoke softly, and placed a delicate kiss on Jean's jaw. He felt the same way, really. With nobody knowing about it, their relationship was entirely their own. Nobody could interfere, and he had to admit, having such a secret was actually pretty exciting. Lost in his thoughts, his hands were wandering, one gripping Jean's hip and the other stroking across his lower back as his mouth worked a trail of kisses along his jaw, and slowly down his neck toward his collarbone.

Marco looked up to see Jean's eyes were closed, and lips slightly parted as the hot water ran in tracks down his face. He looked perfectly content, almost innocent as little sighs of satisfaction escaped him.

But Marco had paused just a moment too long to look, and Jean snapped out of his reverie. His expression changed, and he pinned Marco against the wall, grabbing his wrists and pressing himself against him. Although he could have easily broken free of Jean's grip, doing so was just about the last thing on Marco's mind. He submitted completely as Jean kissed him forcefully, both of them taking gasping breaths as their tongues pushed in and out, pausing occasionally to take in each other's flushed red faces through all the steam and running water before going back for more.

From the very first time they had kissed, it had never been enough - and it wasn't enough now. Without even thinking about it, Marco was rocking his hips back and forth, rubbing himself against Jean, who only pressed himself even closer against Marco in response. Marco could feel how hard they both were, and he started to move his hips faster, wanting more. Jean moaned suddenly and ended the kiss by biting Marco's lower lip. He let go and stared into Marco's eyes again, considering what to do next.

Marco couldn't take the wait.

"Let me touch you, Jean, for God's sake!" he blurted out, struggling slightly, and turning even redder in the face at the sound of his own words.

"No." Jean said plainly.

Marco was about to protest, but Jean suddenly let go of him and dropped to his knees. He looked up at him as he placed one hand around his shaft and with a firm grip, began stroking back and forth. Marco quickly withered under Jean's gaze, and looked away, raising his hands to cover his mouth in an attempt to quiet his heavy breathing and soft moans as Jean's hand moved faster and harder. Jean smiled to himself; he found it impossibly cute how hard Marco tried to stay quiet, even when they were alone in the house.

He decided to make it more difficult for him.   
He gripped Marco's upper thighs and leaned forward, kissing his stomach and steadily moving lower. He kissed and sucked gently all along Marco's length, and took his time over it, savouring the moment and the muffled sounds of enjoyment he was making. He flicked his tongue across the tip, and Marco gasped.

Jean parted his lips and slowly slid his mouth over the end, and glanced up to see Marco panting, giving him a pleading look. As he took more of him into his mouth, and then drew back, Marco started to whimper quietly, and his hands moved away from his mouth at last so that he could grab handfuls of Jean's hair as he began to bob his head up and down in a steady rhythm.

Under the heat of the running water and through the haze of steam, Marco started to feel light-headed; though it only served to heighten his pleasure as Jean's hot, wet mouth took him in and out, over and over. He grabbed Jean's hair harder, causing Jean to moan loudly and furrow his brow, but he carried on with great fervour.

Marco's legs began to shake, so Jean dug his nails into his thighs, pressing him back against the wall, trying to keep him still - but Marco was rocking his hips again instinctively, and his breathing had become ragged between strained moans and whimpers, and the sound was so perfect that Jean felt that he had never been so turned on; but still, he wanted to hear Marco _really_ let go.

It didn't take much more, though. Jean's soft moans against him felt incredible; Marco opened his eyes to look down at him, and Jean glanced back up; the sight of his glossed over golden eyes as his soft lips rubbed against him was enough to send Marco straight over the edge. He cried out suddenly as he came, and clapped a hand to his mouth, but it was too late to hide the noise - so loud this time Jean was sure the neighbours would have heard it - and after swallowing hard, he pushed himself back, shuddering all over.

They stood there together, panting heavily and staring at each other through the streaming water as it washed away the evidence.

"Jean," Marco whispered breathily.

"What?"

"Did you..."

"Yes." Jean answered simply, and ran one hand through his wet hair. He was a little surprised himself, if he was honest.

"But I didn't even do anything," Marco said, looking puzzled.

"You did more than you know," Jean pulled Marco into an embrace, resting his head in the crook of his neck.

Marco squeezed him tight and kissed him on the top of his head, and sighed contentedly, both of them consumed in the afterglow.

After a time, Jean finally broke the silence. "What do you know... I think you cured my hangover."

"Hm?" Marco tilted his head at him, "What do you mean?"

"My headache's gone," Jean was grinning at him.

"Uh... are you sure that's not just because of the painkillers?" Marco laughed.

"Doubt it. They don't usually do anything for me," Jean shrugged.

Marco shook his head, smiling. "You're a strange one, you know that? Now turn around."

"What for?"

"I'm gonna wash your hair for you," Marco was beaming at him as he placed his hands on Jean's shoulders and turned him around, but not before seeing the self-satisfied look on his face.

"Don't look too happy. You know we have to finish cleaning the house up after this."

"Don't remind me," Jean murmured, and closed his eyes. He sighed happily, leaning back against Marco as the slightly taller boy massaged his head. 

Just for now, he was quite content to pretend the rest of the world didn't exist.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't even try to tell me that Jean isn't a (horny) little shit when he's drunk and/or hungover.


End file.
